


134 - Jealously & Proving a Point

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling three very similar prompts “Can you do one where van was talking to another girl which results in REALLY REALLY good make-up sex” from @milaridaught, “making peace (having a kinda cute sex i guess?) w/ Van after one of us (or both, idk) being jealous bc of someone else” from anonymous, and “you’re at a party with the band and then you see van talking to a girl and you get a little jealous so go outside for some air and bondy follows you out and you have a ciggie and talk to him about it and ask if vans ever cheated and he reassures you and tells you how much he loves you etc.” from anonymous





	134 - Jealously & Proving a Point

Van was in that white shirt. It was the one he was wearing when you'd met; only half buttoned up, his dad's necklace hanging between his collarbones. The first time you slept together he was wearing it too. It was stuck to his skin, all transparent from sweat. You'd pulled him straight off stage and into the tour bus. You'd been holding the same shirt in your hands a few weeks later when Van appeared in the doorway of the laundry. Halfway through doing your combined washing, he was standing there looking at you with an unreadable expression. "I love you," he said for the first time, out of nowhere.

Van was in the white shirt that was special, although you didn't know if he realised it was so symbolic. Maybe if he did, he wouldn't have worn it to the party if he'd planned on flirting with half the girls there. You sat on a couch between Bob and a stranger. The music was too loud to hold proper conversation, so you chewed the straw in your drink and watched Van. He was making his way around the room, shaking hands and hugging people. Sociable and charismatic, even if he stayed put in one location, people would find him. Despite not knowing what he was saying to the people, to the girls, you just knew he was flirting. You could tell by the way they laughed at what he was saying. The way he tilted his head at them and smiled.

"Y/N," Bob said, leaning close to you. Your attention snapped from Van to Bob's face. He looked concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied, nodding. "I'm gonna go get some fresh air,"

"Want me to come?"

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, babe," you told him, leaning over and kissing his cheek. As you walked from the room, you didn't look to see if Van watched you leave. You knew he probably didn't notice, and that was a painful enough theory, let alone reality.

The backyard was packed with people, so you stalked around the side and went to the front. There were a few people sitting on the steps of the house, and a couple rolling around on the lawn giggling. You perched on the low brick wall separating the yard from the sidewalk. Holding your hands out flat in front of you, you watched them tremble. Shaking them out with eyes closed, you startled when you heard a voice close.

"Need a smoke?"

Bondy sat down on the wall next to you, cigarette box open and extended. You nodded, taking one and letting him light it. You stayed silent for a couple of minutes, absorbing the tobacco and trying to repress the jealousy.

"What are you doing out here?" you eventually asked him.

"Saw you fly out the house like a madman. Just checkin' on ya," he replied. There was no judgement in his voice. "Somethin' happen?" You looked over at him. He wasn't staring at you, waiting for the truth. He was looking out into the street. It was just an offer to talk if you wanted to.

"It's nothing. I'm okay,"

"Alright. For the record though, you don't seem okay. If you don't want Van to worry, might want to pretend happy better than that," he replied.

"Don't think Van's going to fucking notice my mood at all," you snapped. You closed your eyes and rubbed your temples. You didn't mean to say it. Bondy thought before speaking.

"So, it's not nothing?" He did look at you, then. You shrugged and took another drag of the smoke. "Hasn't got anything to do with the girls throwin' themselves at him in there?"

You chuckled quietly, a bitter sound. "It's not their fault. He's a fucking babe and he's in a band; of course girls are gonna talk to him. It's his fault. He should be tellin' them he's got a girlfriend. Not flirting back,"

"How do you know that's not what he's doing?"

"Have you seen him? He's flirting, Bond. Literally anyone can fucking see that."

Bondy didn't reply. You rested your elbows on your legs and head in your hands. Something happened inside, and a crowd of people cheered. The people on the front steps went inside to see what had happened.

"Look, Y/N. You know him. You know he's a flirt. Don't think he can even help it. Don't think he even knows he likes the attention, you know? He gets all caught up in the moment and doesn't think things through. Don't mean he don't love you, though."

A cold and dangerous thought crossed your mind. Bondy was agreeing with you - Van was certainly flirting with people. He spoke about it like it was an innate part of Van that had always and would always exist. A trait that had the potential to affect all sorts of behaviour. You slid off the wall and stood in front of Bondy. Looking at him seriously, he sat up straight.

"I'm going to ask you something and you cannot fucking lie to me. Okay?" When he said nothing, you repeated, "Okay?!"

"Yeah. Fuck. What?"

"Has Van ever slept with anyone else? Like, while we've been together?"

Immediately Bondy's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He started to shake his head and he almost laughed, but he saw on your face how much potential for hurt was there.

"Fuck, Y/N. No! Are you kidding? Van's never loved anyone or anything like he loves you. You've got to know that?"

"How am I meant to know that when I am literally right fucking here and he's in there," you said stressed, and pointing to the house. Bondy nodded.

"Yeah… But… When he met you, he didn't stop talking about you for a fucking week. We were so sick of hearing about you and your fucking face and hips and laugh and how cool you were, you know? As soon as he knew you existed, that was it. You became part of the plan. Now when he talks about his kids, their 'me and Y/N's kids' and when he talks about tours he'll go 'oh, Y/N wants to go there, so that's good' and literally every song he writes now is about you,"

"But-"

"But nothing. Not saying this isn't a thing," he vaguely motioned towards the house, "but it's nothing. Doesn't mean anything. It's just, like, a hobby or whatever. He's in love with you, Y/N."

Bondy spoke with intensity and a sense of sureness that scared you. He wasn't lying. Firstly, he had no reason to. Secondly, you were positive you'd never heard anyone say something with so much conviction. If only Van could muster half of that when he told you that he loved you. You nodded at Bondy, who nodded back.

"Okay,"

"Okay. So. Go get him if you want him. Take him home. He'll go, Y/N."

You nodded and looked over at the house. He was right. You moved to walk up the path. Stopping, you looked back at Bondy. "Thank you. I… Just, thank you,"

"All good, Y/N. I like you. I like him when you're around. Better for the band, all those love songs. Really just being a selfish cunt," he joked, but you knew it wasn't true. You smiled and walked away.

Back inside you found Van in the kitchen. He was sitting up on the bench, Larry was standing next to him, and there was a girl with them. You watched from the doorway as she slowly tried to move to stand between Van's legs. To his credit, he didn’t open them wide enough to let her. Maybe he just didn't notice that was what she was trying to do. You walked to them and stood next to Larry. He immediately put his arm around your shoulder.

"Hey!" Van greeted. You smiled, saying nothing, and his grin faded.

"Y/N, this is Hayley. She's helping to organise the South American leg of the tour. Translates and stuff," Larry introduced.

"Hey," you said. "You speak Spanish?"

"And Portuguese," she said nodding.

"And like, ten other languages," Van added, taking a sip from a bottle. Haley blushed a little and looked from Van to you.

"Sorry - I didn't catch your name,"

"Y/N,"

"Y/N, nice to meet you," she said. You were annoyed at how kind she seemed. Then, you were annoyed that you were annoyed at that. "How do you all know each other?"

You laughed and swallowed the urge to say something nasty. She didn't know of you, then. Van hadn't mentioned you. "Um, I did some promotional photos for them a bit over a year ago," you said. Van looked at you like you were lying, which you were not. Larry's arm dropped from around your shoulders; even he could sense the coldness coming off you.

"Are you okay?" Van asked quickly.

"Yeah. Why?" you replied. He looked at you, then at Hayley. He slid off the kitchen bench.

"Y/N is my girlfriend. That's how we know each other. We meet 'cause of the photoshoot," he told Hayley, who nodded and shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, so, to confirm - I am your girlfriend?" you asked and your voice was thick with accusation and sass. Larry and Hayley went still. Van looked at you, his face blank but eyes narrowing.

"Sorry. Excuse us," he said to the others. He moved and held you by the arm and pulled you away from them.

"Van, let me go," you said when his fingers were digging into your arm. He did so immediately, but took hold of your hand, walking through the house and out the front door. On the street you looked around. Bondy and the couple on the grass were gone. Van stopped. 

"Y/N," he started, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Don’t! Don't you fucking dare ask me what's wrong," you said cutting him off. He looked at you, hands on his hips.

"Okay. Fine. But something is wrong?" he asked instead. In your head you were just going to go in and find him. He'd hug you and kiss your forehead. When you suggested home, he'd happily follow you. Instead, seeing him talking to Hayley, her not knowing who you were, it caused a storm of emotion. You were angry and hurt and insecure and terrified. You shook out your hands again and tried to breathe. "Y/N," Van said softly and stepped closer.

"No," you whispered and stepped backwards. Van looked wounded when you moved away from him. He glanced around, thinking.

"Do you want to go home?"

You didn't look up, but you nodded. He turned and began to walk down the street, you followed him and listened as he phoned for a taxi. You didn't speak as you waited on the street corner. Van smoked, and you stood against the streetlight with your eyes closed. When the cab pulled up, you quickly opened the front door and sat next to the driver. Van gave directions from the back and paid when you arrived home.

Inside, you didn't turn lights on as walked through the darkness. It wasn't until the bedroom that you flipped a switch. The room was illuminated, and you stood in front of the mirror wiping your makeup off. You listened as Van bided himself some time in the kitchen, filling the kettle and turning it on. The sound of mugs against the bench, and the fridge opening and closing. After a few minutes, he appeared in the bedroom with two cups. He put them on the bedside tables and sat on the edge of the mattress.

He watched you pull your jeans off and walk around the room, dramatically throwing pyjamas on the ground until you found something you wanted to wear. You put on the silky pants that you'd had for years; since before Van. They were pale pink and stayed up with a ribbon waistband. You slowly unbuttoned your shirt and threw it on the ground. You started to dig through t-shirts.

"Y/N… Can you just stop for a second?" Van asked, his voice quiet and calm.

"I'm getting changed,"

"I know… But… Come here,"

"No," you replied bluntly. You heard him sigh, then stand. He was behind you and went to wrap his arms around your waist. You moved away quickly. "Don't fucking touch me," you spat. He looked at you confused and hurt.

"Okay. What the fuck? You were fine before and now you're not and I don't know what I've fucking done!" You looked him up and down. You wondered if your face looked more angry or sad. "Do you just want me to go? Stay at Larry's?" Slowly, you shook your head. "Then you have to tell me what's wrong." You didn't want to accuse him of anything because you didn't want him to leave you.

"I'm… scared," you whispered, not able to make a louder sound. You felt the wetness on your face before you were consciously aware of the fact that you were crying.

"You're scared? Of what? What's happened?" he asked, stepping closer. When you didn't move away he put his hands on your face and wiped away your tears with his thumbs.

"That you don't love me. That I'm not enough," you said, closing your eyes. The split second you got of his expression was enough to make you want to die. It was pure fucking sorrow.

"What?" Even in the shortness of the word you could hear the confusion. He pulled you hard into a hug and held on tight. Your lungs didn't have enough room to do their job, and you'd stop having enough oxygen soon. You didn’t move. "Baby… I… Why? Why would you think that? I love you so much. So, so fucking much." He let go of your body and held your face again. You put your hands over his.

"You don't tell people 'bout me. 'Cause you flirt with girls. 'Cause…"

Van stopped your sentence with a hard kiss that didn't feel good. It wasn't meant to make your lips tingle or you feel warm. It was desperation. It was him not knowing what to say, but needing to do something.

"Baby… Babe… Fuck…" he tried, but just kissed you again. You whined and tried to move, but he held your head in place. You let him press messy and bruising kisses along your jaw and down your neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over, his voice breaking.

"Van, stop, please," you breathed out. He stopped kissing you but stayed pressed against you. His head was on your shoulder and he was still holding your face. "This isn't helping,"

"Tell me what I need to do," he whispered. You pushed him off you. A metre apart you watched each other carefully.

"I don't want to feel like this all the time,"

"Okay. Okay, yeah, just, just tell me when I'm doing something wrong and I'll stop and I'll do whatever you say,"

"Van. You can't… I don't want to, like, change you… You don't… You don't mean to flirt… I shouldn’t be so jealous…" you said, wanting to stop him hurting, but in doing so backtracked quite a bit. He was determined to take responsibility though.

"Y/N. Listen to me. People fucking change people. That's how it works. Boy meets girl, girl makes boy better. Make me better. Please, please," he begged. For a second you thought he was going to drop to his knees, instead he stepped closer and kissed you again, whispering "Make me better" over and over.

It fucking broke you and you kissed him back. You started to unbutton that stupid white shirt at the same time as his hands uncurled the ribbon around your hips. His hands dipped below the waistband. You moaned into his mouth. Usually if you did that, he'd smile. He wasn't smiling though. He was still frantically trying to make you trust him.

Van walked you backwards until you hit the bed. You fell back, and he pulled you so you were on the edge, legs dangling off. He knelt in front of you and kissed each new part of your skin that was exposed to the air as he slid your pants off. Your underwear followed quickly; no time for games. He'd done it before a million times, and the familiarity of the taste of you in his mouth acted as a tranquiliser. He calmed down. You could feel it in how the grip his fingers had on your thighs loosened. How the strokes he made with his tongue slowed and became rhythmic. It calmed you too. Maybe if was just the physical sensation of oral, or maybe it was how easily Van fell before you, ready to do anything to make you okay again.

Moving his mouth from you, kissing down your leg, he rested his head on your thigh, replacing his tongue with fingers. You squirmed and pulled at the blankets, then the sheets. "Baby," you could hear him say, but you were too close to orgasm to engage in conversation. "I'm sorry," he said and bit down on your thigh lightly. He did it again, and then kissed the mark he left on your skin. "I love you. Just you." His brief intermission to tell you that was over, and his mouth was back on you, it was enough to tip you over the edge.

Usually he'd laugh and crawl on top of you, kissing you and tickling you and you'd keep going. As you breathed hard, your chest rising and falling quickly and visibly, Van stayed on the floor, his head back resting on your thigh. You felt exposed and self-conscious then. You pulled a sheet around you and sat up. Van shuffled back. You slide to the floor on your knees, mirroring his position. He looked at you, no smile.

"I love you too," you whispered. "And I promise to trust you more," you added, nodding.

"I promise I'll try harder. It's just you. I just want you," he said and leant across and pulled you into him.

You made him take off the white shirt so that you could wear it. He buttoned it up for you, slowly running his knuckles along your skin as he did. You climbed into bed together and drank the tea he'd made even though it was almost cold. Curled around each other, you only in the shirt, Van only in underwear, you felt at home. You felt safe, and you tried to make yourself remember that for the next time you saw him being his normal flirty, but evidently very loyal, self.


End file.
